


French Pressed, No Cream or Sugar

by brioche



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, i would like to commemorate oreshi's return
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 06:19:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1808467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brioche/pseuds/brioche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>If the Kuroko from two months ago had met the Kuroko from the future and heard that he would fall for a red-haired genius who carries the air of a fairy-tale prince, whose family owns multi-billion dollar companies, but most importantly who is working as his boss at a coffee shop, Kuroko would tell his future self that the vanilla shakes are beginning to mess with his brain and perhaps even cut himself off from the beverage for the remainder of his life. Yet here he is, sitting in the back seat of a limousine holding the entirety of one Akashi Seijuurou’s undivided attention in his hands, and he is not about to wake up from a dream with an unsightly amount of bedhead.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	French Pressed, No Cream or Sugar

Kuroko Tetsuya does not like coffee. He could compliment his every breakfast, lunch, dinner, and late night reading session with a sweet vanilla milkshake, heavenly paradise that brings a blissful smile to his typically expressionless face, but coffee is bitter. Coffee is sharp and unpleasant, a sea of nails jutting out of a splintered chunk of plywood; it prickles his tongue and makes his nose crinkle in disgust.

He can’t remember the last time he has let a single drop of coffee touch his taste buds since the first and last battle he waged against the beverage. Ideally, he would like for this trend to continue as long as possible, but he knew deep down that it was only a matter of time for his streak of coffee-less victory to be broken in the most mocking way – a part-time job at the local coffee shop.

The welcoming committee consisting of the overwhelming scent of coffee that greets Kuroko on his first day of training does nothing to change his already miserable opinion of his new job, and he seriously considers bringing a safety mask on subsequent days to spare his stomach from churning uncomfortably. His eyes silently scan the interior, taking in the sights of clustered tables and chairs of dark mahogany and plush red fabric, brick walls covered in still lifes, portraits, and landscapes that he would never be able to afford, strings of star-shaped lights hanging from the ceiling, chalk words printed perfectly in impeccable horizontal lines on today’s menu, and most importantly bookshelf upon bookshelf lining one of the walls. The sight of them makes him feel like he is in a library rather than a café, and the colorful array of meticulously stacked spines almost puts him at ease.

The inviting interior of the café may have made Kuroko feel more relaxed had he not been in the presence of the red-haired man behind the counter. Since the moment he entered the room he felt those sharp, crimson eyes staring at him, silent and observant, attentive and piercing. The atmosphere inside is stifling, not only because of the smothering smell of coffee but because of the domineering air about the man standing on the opposite side of the room, arms crossed, brows set, chin up, head still, back straight. “Kuroko Tetsuya, I presume?” the man asks, and Kuroko offers a wordless nod without breaking eye contact. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he concludes, extending a hand over the counter’s surface. “I’m your new boss, Akashi Seijuurou.”

Kuroko cautiously closes the gap between them and firmly shakes the other man’s hand. “It is nice to meet you, Akashi-san,” he recites plainly, carefully controlling every word he speaks as he gauges exactly what kind of person Akashi Seijuurou is.

“May I call you Tetsuya?” Akashi states as the corner of his lip curls upwards – it’s clear from his tone of voice that this is not a question – and Kuroko nods again; who is he to question his new boss so early in his new job? It isn’t as if it’s strange for someone of a higher rank – not to mention someone with such an inexplicable air of supremacy – to call Kuroko by his first name. “Perfect, please join me behind the counter and we will start your training, Tetsuya.”

“I am working behind the counter already?” Kuroko asks, sure that he would have been appointed a position as a waiter or a dishwasher or just a cleaning boy. He has no experience in the food industry – god forbid he had any previous experience working with _coffee_ in particular, despite how useful that would be – and the only prior ‘job’ on his resume is his volunteer work at the local kindergarten every summer.

“That’s what I’m here to decide,” Akashi replies coolly, and Kuroko shivers, the thin hairs on his forearms pricking up.

Akashi is surprisingly patient, explaining each step of the coffee brewing process in great detail. He doesn’t hesitate to answer any of Kuroko’s questions and has no qualms with repeating anything he has already described. Despite speaking quietly as they are the only two in the café, Akashi’s voice still carries an air of authority, and Kuroko nods in acknowledgement after every other sentence.

Over the course of the next hour Kuroko burns the exact rich, dark brown shade of a perfectly roasted coffee bean into his brain; learns the differences, pros, and cons between burr-grinding, chopping, pounding, and roller grinding; struggles to understand why one would brew through decoction, infusion, gravitational feed, or pressurized percolation; and memorizes the correct ratio of coffee grounds to water.

“Why do you use all of these different methods to brew coffee, Akashi-san?” Kuroko asks as the redhead is in the middle of demonstrating proper usage of the French press – his self-proclaimed favorite for reasons Kuroko doesn’t understand. “Isn’t it easier to just focus on using one?”

Akashi finishes adding hot water of no less than two-hundred but no more than two-hundred-and-five degrees to the ground coffee in his beaker and gives Kuroko a sidelong smile – the second one Kuroko has received today. “Each different variety of coffee requires a different method to cultivate its taste to that of the highest degree. Each person prefers a different variety of coffee. It is pointless to limit yourself to making only one type when there are so many possibilities to consider.”

Kuroko holds in his comment that he prefers no variety of coffee and subconsciously crinkles his nose when he smells the coffee beginning to brew. While waiting Akashi explains how espresso-based drinks differ with or without milk, lists too many of the latter for Kuroko to remember, and overwhelms the shorter man with the notion of an entire domain of cold drinks that he will also need to know how to prepare. Kuroko soon isn’t sure if he’s feeling queasy because of the scent of the coffee grounds or because of the grim future awaiting him beyond a battle-worn horizon painted red with blood, overlaid by a swarm of scavenging crows.

“Would you like to try some?” Akashi asks once the French pressed coffee is finished brewing. Kuroko hopes that the redhead is too busy pouring the coffee into a mug to see him pale at the thought. The last thing he wants right now is to drink any of that coffee – he’s dealt with enough today already just being in the presence of that accursed bean for so long – but he knows better than to deny his boss, especially when his boss’s invisible aura silently demands nothing but subjection. Akashi sneaks a glance at him expectantly and doesn’t spill a drop despite his focus being elsewhere.

Kuroko swallows the lump in his throat as Akashi finishes pouring the coffee and extends the mug out to him, his visage expressionless but rigid. “I am sorry, Akashi-san, but I do not like coffee,” Kuroko declares resolutely, wondering if he should have just subjected himself to suffering at the taste of coffee on his tongue at the sight of Akashi raising an eyebrow. “I must decline your offer.”

To his surprise, Akashi laughs quietly before he brings the mug to his lips to blow gently on the surface of the water, like he’s afraid to make it shatter in his hands. “If you dislike coffee, why are you working in a coffee shop, Tetsuya?” he asks calmly.

“A college student needs to get by through some means, Akashi-san,” Kuroko replies bluntly, perhaps even bitterly, still inwardly upset that Maji Burger had rejected his job application and subjected him to this. If he had gotten the job at Maji Burger he could undoubtedly drink all the vanilla milkshakes his heart could ever desire.

Akashi seems to ponder his words for a moment before he takes a sip of his freshly French pressed coffee. “Today’s training is over,” he states. “Please review everything you have learned as every piece of information I have taught you is crucial for your future success.”

“Thank you, Akashi-san,” Kuroko says before giving the redhead a slight bow. “I will see you tomorrow for the second day of training.”

As he leaves, Kuroko wishes he would never have to see another coffee bean for the remainder of his life, but these are fruitless desires considering his current line of work. He is grateful enough to have been spared having to endure stomaching any coffee today but skeptical about just how long he will be able to survive.

 

………

 

A week passes by quickly, and on his first day of real work, Kuroko realizes why Akashi was looking for another person to work behind the counter. Another one of the workers, a blonde man with the looks to put every female customer in attendance to shame, nearly bounces off the walls in excitement as he ferries drinks around to waiting customers with the help of a dark-skinned, blue haired man who doesn’t seem to understand what an inside voice or a profanity filter are. Another man with purple hair is busy in the kitchen preparing the café’s pastries – sometimes eating what he has just finished making and defeating the purpose entirely – leaving Akashi alone behind the counter taking orders and brewing coffee at an alarmingly efficient speed.

“I don’t trust any of them to be working at my side,” Akashi explains simply as Kuroko joins him behind the counter and ties a black apron over his primly ironed, light blue dress shirt. After the chaos he’s witnessed he can’t really blame the redhead’s choices. He also can’t help but to feel a blooming sense of accomplishment in his chest at the redhead’s implications.

Kuroko is tasked with putting his newfound brewing knowledge to the test as Akashi relinquishes the completion of orders to him and dedicates himself to the register. Kuroko is entirely okay with working in the background, away from the customers – in fact he might even prefer it; no one has to notice him anyways, not that most people do.

He engages in menial small talk with Akashi between frantic customers and piles of orders, learning of two more workers in addition to Kise, Aomine, and Murasakibara whom he had seen before – Midorima, who takes care of all finance related issues, and Momoi, who is in charge of advertising and publicity. He learns that the building was built fifty-three years ago and renovated seven years ago, that the sugar they use is imported from Brazil but the cream is locally farmed, and that the music playing on the speakers is a jazz arrangement of Scott Joplin’s Maple Leaf Rag – original manuscript completed in eighteen-ninety-eight but published in eighteen-ninety-nine. He learns a lot of information – some of it useful and some of it not – but one of the most important pieces of information that he learns from his exchanges with Akashi is that his boss is reluctant to share any information about himself.

After spending the majority of the previous week in this very spot behind the counter at Akashi’s side Kuroko realizes that he knows nearly nothing about the redhead. Akashi is an exceptional teacher – patient and meticulous in his explanations; if Akashi was one of his college professors, surely the lessons would be easy to understand. Kuroko can recite the ingredients, ratio, and step-by-step formula to create any drink from the menu and probably now film a documentary detailing every facet and aspect of the café, but everything he knows about the man holding a handful of change across the cash register for the paying customer he knows solely as a result of his observations.

Akashi Seijuurou is neat. Every day before leaving he makes sure that each chair is in its proper place slid under its proper table, that there are no holes present in the bookshelf where a discarded book that may be on the floor should properly be. Every day before opening he makes sure that each letter he has handwritten on the menu is perfectly straight and in its proper place in accordance with every other previously properly placed letter, that there are enough bills and coins of every kind laid out properly in the cash register in order to be prepared for any situation that may occur.

Akashi Seijuurou is organized. Ingredients are separated into categories on each shelf lining the back wall – coffee beans are ordered alphabetically, pre-grinded beans are in glass jars sequenced from coarsest to finest, miscellaneous ingredients are arranged from most-used to least-used based on previous history of customers’ orders. He has a binder underneath the counter filled with pages upon pages detailing everything on the menu should someone forget how to make something – that _someone_ , of course, does not include him, himself, because Akashi Seijuurou never forgets anything that he has deemed important enough to acknowledge.

Akashi Seijuurou is not an openly emotional person. He speaks in a flat tone, similar to Kuroko’s own, and the only times a smile or laugh might cause a moment of disarray in his placid expression is when he’s in the presence of something he finds truly intriguing – when something doesn’t go as expected, when something goes beyond his expectations. He winced for the slightest of seconds when Kuroko accidentally splashed a few drops of scalding water on him during his training and the faintest ghost of a smirk flitted across his lips when Kise nearly tripped over his own feet with a yelp. He is calm and calculating, but there is no denying that there is still a human residing beneath his cool exterior.

Lastly, Akashi Seijuurou is not as scary as he appears to be. He neither intends to intimidate, nor does he need to – he is confident and commanding because he has the right to be; the respect he draws out from everyone surrounding him is respect he has well earned. He is a natural leader, but he is not a dictator. He accepts no for an answer, provided that there is a perfectly sound and logical explanation for someone to disagree with him, and he is not controlling – in fact, he prefers leaving his workers to their own devices with the knowledge that they are sufficient enough to make their own decisions without his guidance.

Kuroko has only known Akashi Seijuurou for a week and can read his every action like his favorite Tsujimura Mitsuki novel, _Slow Heights no Kamisama_ , but understanding how Akashi acts is different than understanding why someone like him is wasting his time working as the manger of this coffee shop. Akashi seems more suited to be the budding governor of Tokyo Prefecture or Prime Minister of Japan or maybe even just a yakuza boss, but he’s standing next to Kuroko right now wearing a black apron with white daisies embroidered around its edges as he holds a flimsy receipt in his outstretched hand.

“One caffé macchiato, hot, steamed milk,” Akashi states, and thirty seconds after Kuroko has taken the receipt he has finished preparing the customer’s order.

“Kise-san?” Kuroko calls out, ready for the blonde to take the order to the waiting customer, but Kise seems to be in a heated argument with Aomine on the opposite side of the room. “Kise-san, an order is ready,” Kuroko repeats – he has raised his voice, but even so the sound of the autumn leaves rustling across the sidewalk outside could still overpower him.

“Ryouta, Daiki,” Akashi pronounces firmly, his arms folded with a slight frown set on his brows. “Stop behaving half your age and come do your job as you should.”

Aomine loudly exclaims something to Kise with a glare as he points outside the front window of the café at a woman walking down the street, and Kise responds by putting his hands between them and shaking his head. From his peripheral, Kuroko sees Akashi’s eyes narrow at the juvenile behavior continuing despite his admonishments, but before the redhead can take any further actions Kuroko interrupts.

“It is okay, Akashi-san,” Kuroko says, with a perfectly straight face. “I am perfectly capable of delivering the order myself.”

“Their behavior is most definitely not okay, especially not in this establishment,” Akashi begins gravely; Kuroko watches as his expression slowly softens, “but thank you, Tetsuya. I appreciate your extra effort.”

As Kuroko searches for the customer who procured the caffé macchiato he hears Akashi enunciate the rowdy duo’s name once more with chilling purpose. Kuroko slips past Kise unnoticed with the mug in his hand on his way to the front of the room, hearing the blonde yelp guiltily at the sound of his name spoken so harshly, and after he sets the drink down on a woman’s table before disappearing with a nearly inaudible _here is your drink_ , _miss_ , he slips back behind the counter just in time to hear the end of Akashi’s lecture to Kise and Aomine.

“…am sure that there is a time and place for you to be discussing the bust sizes of women who do not know that you are watching them,” Akashi is in the middle of saying as Aomine grumbles quietly to himself and Kise’s bottom lip quivers, “but it would not be now. While you are here between the hours of one to nine I expect work to be done.”

“But her rack was huge!” Aomine exclaims. “Definitely the biggest I’ve ever seen!”

“I wasn’t even _saying_ anything!” Kise protests. “Why am I being yelled at, too?!”

Akashi folding his arms wordlessly is enough to make them mutter apologies before hurrying back to their work, and Kuroko blinks once, contemplating the other blue-haired man’s words. “I do not think Aomine-san has been out much,” Kuroko states bluntly, and he thinks he hears Akashi try to hide a snort.

 

………

 

In the middle of cleanup one night, while he is in the middle of running a wet mop over the slate tiles covering the café floor Kuroko stops in front of the bookcases that caught his eye the first day he entered the building. His eyes quickly scan the spines, darting back and forth over titles he recognizes such as Dazai Osamu’s _Run, Melos_ , Tanizaki Junichirou’s _The Makioka Sisters_ , and Nietzsche’s Poetry Anthology. Whoever stocked the shelves has impeccable taste in literature, and who is he to act like he doesn’t know who these books belong to – the owner of these shelves upon shelves of novels has to be Akashi Seijuurou.

“Tetsuya,” Akashi says from behind, and Kuroko glances over his shoulder to see the redhead leaning back against a table’s edge, arm folded across his chest while he holds a mug in his opposite hand. He’s efficient as usual, already finished taking inventory, cleaning the counter, and wiping down the tables; Akashi might be the boss, but he doesn’t think himself above assisting in the after-work cleaning duties. “Taking a break from cleaning?” he inquires. His eyebrow is raised – is it a challenge? – but Kuroko isn’t one to lie; he nods.

“I have always wanted to see what books are on these shelves,” he explains plainly.

Rather than telling him to get back to work, Akashi takes a sip of his drink as he continues staring Kuroko down, scrutinizing yet curious, a field researcher observing an unfamiliar species. “Do you have a favorite author?” the redhead asks calmly amidst the sounds of Kise and Aomine competing in the background over who can stack the most chairs the fastest.

Of course he does, but Akashi isn’t looking for a meager yes or no. The question is innocent enough, but there are right answers and there are wrong answers. It is a test, it seems like everything is a test when it comes to Akashi, but Kuroko never worries about giving an incorrect answer because any answer that he believes in is the correct answer to him.

“Natsume Souseki,” Kuroko replies.

Akashi lowers his mug to the table with a barely audible clink and walks over to Kuroko’s side. He places a decisive finger onto the spine of a single book and slips it out from between its brethren, flips the cover open with his thumb, and tilts his head to the side as he scans the first page. “ _I always called him Sensei_ ,” Akashi recites quietly, “ _I shall therefore refer to him simply as Sensei, and not by his real name. It is not because I consider it more discreet, but it is because I find it more natural that I do so. Whenever the memory of him comes back to me now, I find that I think of him as Sensei still. And with pen in hand, I cannot bring myself to write of him in any other way_.”

Kuroko recognizes the first lines from his favorite Natsume Souseki novel like the comforting hand of his grandmother on his shoulder after a tiring day or the plush softness of his pillow as he drifts to sleep on his futon before waking with hideous bedhead the following morning. “You have _Kokoro_ ,” he says as Akashi lets the cover fall back into place before and offers it to Kuroko who accepts.

The same image of trees is on _Kokoro_ ’s cover and the book weighs the same amount as he gently flips through it, but whereas his own copy is full of pages faded and dog-eared, spine frayed and worn, Akashi’s is in perfect condition, crisp and spotless with a wooden bookmark sandwiched between pages one-hundred-and-two and one-hundred-and-three. It’s familiar but unfamiliar, comforting but unsettling, and Kuroko wordlessly closes the novel before he slides it back into the only misplaced hole in the bookshelf.

“ _I Am a Cat_ ,” Akashi states.

“This is news to me, Akashi-san,” Kuroko replies.

“That is my favorite Natsume Souseki novel,” Akashi clarifies with a small smile. “I take it you have not heard of it. The narrator is a house cat. It is a satire criticizing academia and institutional thought that delves into the sheer stupidity of human beings.”

Kuroko tries his hardest not to laugh at the bizarre summary as he nods silently. Akashi sometimes says strange things – strange things that no ordinary human with a concern for how society perceives them would have the gall to say.

“I recommend it,” Akashi concludes, and as he reaches up to grab the book from the shelf Kuroko has already pulled it free, leaving the redhead’s hand frozen in the air.

“May I borrow this, Akashi-san?” Kuroko asks, noting Akashi’s fingers twitching slightly before he lowers his hand back to his side.

“I was about to offer,” Akashi replies as Kuroko gingerly opens the novel to its first page, “but please read it on your free time.”

Kuroko nods as he closes the book, sets it down on a table, and continues mopping the tiles, hearing Akashi’s receding footsteps as he heads off to remind Kise and Aomine that they are, in fact, twenty-one years old and not still in primary school.

 

………

 

By the second week on the job, Kuroko no longer feels queasy at the sudden scent of coffee attacking his nostrils. He decides that despite the cruel irony, working in a coffee shop might not have been a bad idea after all, as Kise and Aomine are entertaining to be around considering he’s not the one who has to bother disciplining them, Murasakibara sometimes gives him leftover pastries – sometimes they are even vanilla flavored, even if they are never a delicious vanilla shake – and best of all he still has escaped each day without having to let a drop of coffee mar his tongue.

During his lunch break Kuroko is on the way out to pick up food from the Maji Burger down the street when he sees Akashi sitting alone at a table in the corner, a chessboard unfolded on its surface. Akashi stares down intently at the pieces of his makeshift game against himself, lifts his mug to his lips, blinks once, and moves the white queen forward two rows. Kuroko walks over to the redhead. He doesn’t feel very hungry today.

“Tetsuya,” Akashi acknowledges without looking up as he takes a sip of his drink.

“Hello, Akashi-kun,” Kuroko responds as he pulls the opposite chair out from the table and carefully takes a seat. He identifies Akashi’s beverage as a plain, French pressed coffee, black with no cream or sugar, based on its smell and color. He would no doubt be unable to handle such an off-putting combination should it come into contact with his taste buds – in fact, he is sure that he would die.

Kuroko changes his focus to the half-completed game of chess despite the distracting scent of black coffee lingering in the air, and after a few seconds he takes the black bishop between his thumb and index finger. He lifts it, pauses for a moment, bites the inside of his lip, and sets the piece down in what he thinks is an advantageous position.

A mere second passes before Akashi snatches up his white knight and places it down onto the board with a decisive clack. He’s being incredibly aggressive, too confident; he is already launching an assault on Kuroko’s king when all the pieces are still in play. “You should not underestimate me, Akashi-kun,” Kuroko suggests as he takes Akashi’s white bishop with his black rook.

Akashi raises an eyebrow as he quickly lifts his remaining bishop in the crook between his index and middle fingers. “I’m not,” he replies simply before he returns the piece to the board.

Kuroko stares down at the board, and as he cycles through each of his pieces, the fact that he can now no longer move a single one without losing it makes the back of his mouth grow dry. He thought Akashi was being overconfident, was moving his pieces quickly without considering the possibilities, but Kuroko realizes that he was the one being too sure of himself when he took Akashi’s bishop.

Slowly, Kuroko loses his pieces one by one. Every time he manages to take one of Akashi’s it is a triumph, even when they are merely pawns. He has never suffered such a decisive defeat in his life, and each time Akashi’s speedy turns end with the loud clack of a piece advancing towards his dwindling forces Kuroko bites his lower lip at the imminent end and feels like he is a lone plastic cup in a trash compactor. There are many chances where Akashi could easily end the game swiftly and efficiently with a checkmate, but he vies for Kuroko’s other pieces instead, unwilling to settle for anything other than an absolute victory.

On Akashi’s final turn he takes the last sip of his coffee before setting the mug down onto the table. He takes his white queen by the neck and places her at the front of his calculated assault, positions her perfectly amongst the rest of his army that has cornered and rendered Kuroko’s king helpless, pulls his fingers back to rest their delicate pads onto his cheek, and smiles, almost sweetly, corners of his lips curling upwards contently. “Checkmate,” Akashi declares decisively but quietly, this one-sided victory unnecessary to announce to the world because every victory Akashi Seijuurou experiences is another one-sided victory.

Kuroko bites his lower lip again as he laces his fingers together beneath the table. There is no point in checking to see if he can make another move because he knows he can’t. “Congratulations, Akashi-kun,” he says.

“You were more formidable than average,” Akashi replies as he closes his eyes knowingly, “but I always win.”

“That is impossible,” Kuroko counters firmly.

“You may play one match against me every day until you come to accept the truth,” Akashi offers, and Kuroko accepts, not so much because he wants to defeat Akashi but because he remembers the lonely dullness previously present in the other man’s crimson eyes that melted away during their match. He will have to buy lunch before coming to work from now on.

 

………

 

Seven chess matches later Kuroko’s streak is zero to eight, but he can say that he has improved exponentially at the game. As today’s closing hours near, he is standing at the counter in the middle of reminiscing about how especially spectacular the loss he experienced earlier was when he feels a presence near his shoulder. “Can I help you, Akashi-kun?” he asks, unsure what the redhead could want since there haven’t been many customers arriving since the clock struck eight-thirty.

“What are you doing?” Akashi asks.

“Latte art,” Kuroko replies, pulling the toothpick he was holding out of the mug so he can step aside and let Akashi see what he has been working on.

He isn’t finished yet, but a flurry of mismatched lines covers the light foam grazing the surface of the coffee. It is his first time trying to make this so-called latte art that he has researched online, and this fact seems to be pretty clear based on the appearance of his work.

“Why?” Akashi asks.

“I want to be the best barista I can be. Nine out of ten online blogs agree that this is the next step towards perfection,” Kuroko replies bluntly.

Akashi curls his hand into a fist and rests a knuckle on his chin as he stares down at Kuroko’s creation. “What is it?”

“I am hurt that you cannot tell,” Kuroko answers.

“It is a bird’s nest,” Akashi declares resolutely after a moment of consideration.

“It is a cat,” Kuroko corrects, and Akashi falls silent as he squints.

“Of course, these are its whiskers,” he says as he points at a few of the lines with the index finger of his other hand.

“That is its nose,” Kuroko corrects again, and Akashi arches his neck as he turns his head to glance at the only customer inside the café sitting on the far side of the room. “Please drink it, Akashi-kun, I would like to try again and do not want this one to go to waste.”

As Akashi drinks Kuroko’s failed creation Kuroko pours himself a new latte to work with. He thought that getting the foam to be the correct consistency would be the hardest part, but drawing in said foam is harder than it appears. He has heard of another technique where the pattern is created during the pouring process, but that requires tilting and moving the pitcher and mug and generally just too much trouble.

From the corner of his eye he sees Akashi mirroring his actions, aiming to make some latte art of his own. Kuroko is sure that whatever the redhead makes will be perfect, and as he carefully draws the ear of his own cat he makes sure to hold the mug as still as possible so as not to have a repeat of last time’s mistakes. “ _I am a cat_ ,” Kuroko recites as he completes the curve of the top of his cat’s head. “ _As yet I have no name. I’ve no idea where I was born_.”

Akashi chuckles quietly as his toothpick sweeps through the foam of his latte. “Did you enjoy the book?”

“Yes, but not as much as _Kokoro_ ,” Kuroko replies as he messes up the cat’s whiskers again. The three lines turned into one, and now the cat looks like its cheek has been hit with a cleaver. “The cat provided a different point of view, but reading a commentary on the foolishness of humans is less interesting to me than delving into more inherently opinionated subjects such as guilt, shame, and weakness.”

“I’ll remember this and suggest something more to your tastes next time,” Akashi says, and Kuroko frowns at the lopsided eyes he has poked into the foam.

“I am open to anything you suggest, Akashi-kun,” he clarifies. “There is no point in limiting oneself to a small fraction of the entire body of written literature.”

“We will find something new for you to read before closing tonight,” Akashi proclaims as he sets his toothpick down onto the counter. “Are you finished with your second try?” Kuroko wordlessly throws his own toothpick into the trash before stepping back to let Akashi look at his finished product. “This cat is an improvement, Tetsuya,” he says encouragingly.

“It is a bird’s nest,” Kuroko retorts, and Akashi frowns. Kuroko glances at what Akashi has drawn into his latte and finds himself frowning as well. “That is the Mona Lisa.”

“Yes,” Akashi replies. “I did not get her smile quite right, but that is, of course, to be expected.”

The front door swings open to announce the arrival of a new customer and Akashi quickly swings around to greet them at the register. Kuroko sighs and pushes his second failed attempt aside as he wonders silently if Akashi Seijuurou is, in fact, bad at anything.

 

………

 

Kuroko answers his own question when he brings his dog to work one day. He’s planning to take Nigou to the veterinarian during his lunch break, and Akashi surprises him by letting Nigou stay inside until then provided that he behave himself and not ingest any food. Kuroko realizes the reason behind Akashi’s good-natured decision when Nigou’s presence brings in more customers than ever, eager to play with the lively puppy.

While in the middle of preparing a customer’s cappuccino Kuroko hears Akashi muttering something, and when he glances back over his shoulder he sees Nigou pawing at the redhead’s leg with a whine. “Tetsuya, tell your dog to leave me alone,” he says as he spins around, the apron around his waist fluttering around as his feet dance back and forth in an attempt to escape the dog’s clutches.

“I am busy doing my job, please tell him yourself, Akashi-kun,” Kuroko replies as he stifles a laugh at the sight of Nigou with a mouthful of Akashi’s shoelaces and returns to completing the cappuccino.

“Sit,” he hears Akashi command, and Nigou responds with a quiet bark. “I said sit, not speak, you dog.”

“His name is Nigou, not dog,” Kuroko chimes in as he pours the steamed milk into the mug.

“Nigou, sit,” Akashi repeats and after Kuroko puts the completed drink onto the counter for Aomine to deliver he watches Nigou treating the cuff of Akashi’s pants like a new chewtoy. “Sit. Sit. Nigou, sit.”

Akashi is a patient individual when it comes to some things, but Kuroko can tell that the redhead’s limits are being pushed to the limit when Nigou pulls on his pants enough for a faint ripping noise to begin. “Nigou,” Kuroko states quietly, and the puppy releases his new toy to turn to the shorter man with wide eyes. “Sit,” he finishes, and Nigou’s rear immediately meets the ground, tail wagging enthusiastically as he pants.

“Your dog is disobedient,” Akashi declares gravely as he folds his arms, tapping his elbow with a finger.

“Nigou is perfectly well behaved,” Kuroko replies before he kneels down and holds his right hand out. “Nigou, shake.” The puppy puts on a flawless display, lifting his paw to place it onto Kuroko’s palm. “Good boy,” he whispers as he shakes Nigou’s paw and pets his head affectionately in praise. “Don’t mind Akashi-kun’s words. Akashi-kun does not know what he is talking about.”

“A dog that is only obedient to its master is as useful as a pen which has run out of ink,” Akashi says, but before Kuroko can say anything another person has joined them behind the counter.

“Your dog is so cute, Kurokocchi!” Kise begins as he walks over and kneels down to rub the fur on Nigou’s chest with his hand. “Nigou! Nigou!” the blonde exclaims, and the puppy diverts his full attention to the new voice. “Nigou, roll over!” Nigou slides down onto his belly and rolls over, ending with a plop right at Akashi’s feet. “Good boy,” Kise praises happily, but the blonde’s happiness never lasts long.

“Ryouta,” Akashi states, and in less than a second Kise is standing upright again. “Get back to work.”

 

………

 

By the time a month has passed, Kuroko considers it an act of a divine being in the skies above that he has managed to evade dreadful consumption of a mug of coffee. Not only that, but he has also slipped by unquestioned all this time even in the midst of participating in an unacceptable act. No one has noticed his actions because of his phantom-like presence in the café – that is, of course, no one except for Akashi. He almost feels like a traitor every time he catches Akashi watching him with the tip of a plastic straw between his lips, drinking the beverage of a rival establishment while he works, but any guilt he may possess is overshadowed by just how delicious his frothy drink is.

“You enjoy drinking that a lot,” Akashi observes aloud as he examines their current stock of milk and cream with a clipboard and pen in his hand.

“Vanilla milkshakes are my favorite,” Kuroko states as he practices drawing a cat in a latte for the fourth time today, holding the toothpick in one hand while the other holds the plastic cup, the feeling of coldness and condensation on his fingers a comforting sensation.

“By a lot, I mean that you enjoy drinking that every day,” Akashi clarifies. “It’s not good practice to indulge yourself in your favorite every day. Isn’t part of what makes it special the fact that it should be saved for a particular occasion?”

“I suffer through the smell of coffee every day for eight hours,” Kuroko says. “I believe one vanilla shake a day to soothe my pain is not much to ask for.”

“There’s nothing healthy in that drink, Tetsuya,” Akashi continues as he scribbles something on his clipboard. “It’s made of ice cream, sugar, and milk. It does little for your dietary needs.”

“The French pressed coffee you drink every day does just as much for your own dietary needs, Akashi-kun,” Kuroko retorts before he closes his lips back around the straw and takes an uncharacteristically loud slurp, cutting off the redhead before he can continue to argue. “What is your favorite food?”

Akashi takes the subject change in stride, folding his arms as he closes his eyes and smiles in what seems to be reminiscence. “Tofu hot pot,” the redhead replies. “It is simple and elegant. When the fresh tofu is immaculately simmered in the perfectly seasoned broth with a single strip of kombu on top for garnish it is a joy to eat, delicate on the palette, and healthy and easy to digest.”

Kuroko finishes drawing the whiskers on his cat and thinks to himself that this one is finally a job well done before he throws away the toothpick and turns to face Akashi. “That was a predictable response, Akashi-kun,” he states as he takes his straw between his fingers and swirls it around, capturing the dollop of whipped cream topping his shake in a chaotic whirlpool.

A smile graces the redhead’s face as he fixes his calculating stare onto Kuroko once more. “It is because you are spending too much time with me,” he replies.

“I have no choice,” Kuroko counters. “I work here, whether I like it or not.”

“Do you?” Akashi inquires as he looks down and continues writing on his clipboard. “Enjoy working here, that is.”

“Yes,” Kuroko responds, surprising even himself by how quickly he has answered the question.

Akashi seems pleased by his answer as he slips his pen into his pocket and sets the clipboard down onto the counter. “May I try your vanilla shake?” he asks.

If anyone else had asked him the question Kuroko thinks he would have declined, but this time he nods. “Yes,” Kuroko repeats, offering the redhead the half-empty plastic cup containing the single item that brings him the most joy.

Yet rather than taking the cup from him, Akashi grasps onto it by puts his hand over Kuroko’s, and he inhales sharply at the sudden contrasting warmth sandwiching his hand against his cold milkshake. Akashi pulls him a step forward and dips his head down slightly to slip the straw through his parted lips, watching Kuroko carefully from behind his lashes.

Kuroko wants to yank his hand back at the feeling of Akashi’s lithe fingers burning his skin, but he keeps such urges under control as he watches the tip of the straw slowly roll left and right between Akashi’s pliant lips – lips that probably taste like bitter French pressed coffee with no cream or sugar. When Akashi finally takes a sip of the milkshake, Kuroko feels his heart threatening to rise up his throat at the same rate that the shake is traveling up the thin straw, and he gulps twice in succession.

Akashi releases his hand at the same time that those lips break away from the straw, and as Kuroko waits for the redhead’s assessment his gaze flits from the straw tip up to Akashi’s lips, back to the straw tip and finally back to Akashi’s folded arms and hard frown. “Too sweet,” Akashi concludes in disapproval.

“No, it is perfect,” Kuroko replies as he begins to finish the rest of his drink, thinking about how cold his hand feels now because something unexpectedly desirable is missing.

“I suggest you set limits for yourself, Tetsuya, unless you want your dental bill to skyrocket,” Akashi advises as he picks up his clipboard again and fishes his pen from his pocket.

“Akashi-kun is the type of person who would help me pay the dental bill,” Kuroko retorts.

Akashi nearly drops his pen but catches it midair before it clatters to the ground. He stares at Kuroko blankly for three long seconds before a smile tugs at his lips as he returns to taking inventory. “Your cats are improving,” he says as he scratches checks and crosses on his clipboard with the tip of his pen.

Kuroko glances at his completed latte art on the counter that he had completely forgotten about during their previous exchange – leave it to Akashi to observe everything no matter how trivial, as long as it has caught his interest. “Thank you, Akashi-kun.”

 

………

 

“Good night, Akashi-kun,” Kuroko calls out at nine-thirty-seven p.m. one night after cleaning has been completed and the coffee shop is ready to be officially closed. On his way out of the front door he glances back to wave at Akashi, always the last one to leave the café, who responds with a small wave of his own.

Kuroko takes one step outside before a wall of water crashes into his face, and he whirls around on his heel to walk back into the café. “It is raining outside,” he states, and Akashi looks up to him from behind the cash register, his fingers frozen on the dollar bills he is counting as he raises an eyebrow. “Do you have an umbrella I can borrow?”

Akashi quickly flips through the remaining bills in his hand and scribbles a lengthy number on his clipboard before he walks over to join Kuroko at the front of the room. The redhead folds his arms and approaches the large windows covering the front walls, peering out of them to gather every necessary piece of information about the current state of the outdoors in less than two seconds. “It’s pouring quite hard,” Akashi muses at sight of the ribbons of rain draping down from the sky. “How far away is your car parked?”

“It is enough of a struggle to pay the rent, Akashi-kun,” Kuroko replies bluntly as he scrapes at the wet hair plastered to his forehead with his fingertips. “The walk to public transit from here is fifteen minutes. I would appreciate an umbrella, but if you do not have one I will be fine. It is just rain.”

When Akashi rummages around behind the counter Kuroko expects him to bring over an umbrella like he had requested, but Akashi returns with a towel that he tosses onto Kuroko’s wet head. “Dry yourself off or you’ll catch a cold. I’ll have you driven home tonight.”

Once Kuroko pulls the towel out of his eyes he sees Akashi standing next to him with his cellphone in his hand, tapping at the screen with his thumb. “You do not have to. I will walk, umbrella or no umbrella,” Kuroko replies.

“I said I’ll have you driven home tonight, Tetsuya,” Akashi insists, and when he glances up from his screen his chilling stare makes Kuroko shiver more than the wet clothes clinging to his back. “You know I don’t like repeating myself. Now dry yourself off.”

Kuroko rubs the towel at his hair until the friction makes him feel like his head is going to light on fire, and as he begins to wring out his wet clothes onto the previously clean slate tiles he bites his lower lip. “I will mop it up in a moment,” he states as he stares down guiltily at the growing puddles blooming on the ground.

The feeling of something brushing against his hair brings his attention back up, and he finds Akashi frowning perplexedly as he stands much too close, threading his fingers through Kuroko’s light blue hair. “It’s just water on the floor, it will dry on its own,” the redhead murmurs, and the feeling of Akashi’s warm breath grazing his damp cheeks makes Kuroko curl his fingers tighter into the wet wrinkles of his own shirt. “Is your hair always this unruly when you dry it?” he asks, eyes roaming around the spiky tuffs of hair poking every which way.

“It is worse when I wake up in the morning,” Kuroko replies as Akashi’s fingers linger at the messy fringe masking his eyes. He blinks every time Akashi’s knuckles accidentally bump into his forehead and reminds himself to breathe calmly through his nose. “My mother and father tell me I look like an anime character.”

Akashi says nothing as his hand slips down the side of Kuroko’s head, thumb brushing the edge of his ear as the redhead catches the soft strands of hair sticking out like a porcupine’s needles between his fingers. Any hints of coldness Kuroko was feeling due to being drenched are washed from his mind by the warmth budding in his chest and when he takes his next breath he holds it deep within his lungs. “Akashi-kun,” Kuroko whispers sharply, a warning which makes the redhead freeze.

“…Ah,” Akashi breathes as his hand rigidly falls back down to his side and he glances at the door. “Our ride has arrived.”

There is a knock on the door a moment later, and the moment that Akashi pulls it open the elderly man dressed in a suit who is standing outside bows slightly as he offers an umbrella. “I hope the night finds you well, young master,” the man says.

“I told you to please refrain from calling that in public,” Akashi replies as he accepts the umbrella and waves his hand at Kuroko. “Come.”

When Akashi said Kuroko would be driven home he did not expect to riding inside of a limousine for the first time in his life, and as he sits in the back seat of a vehicle that likely costs more money than his family has ever possessed at one time the feeling of suffocation is even more overwhelming than when Akashi’s face had been a few centimeters from his a few minutes ago. Akashi is sitting beside him, his legs crossed, back straight, and hands folded primly on his knees, like a king posing on his throne.

A string quartet plays a slow waltz over the crisp speakers as the rain patters down onto the roof of the limousine above, and Kuroko sits uncomfortably on his hands, unsure of what to do or say. There are more questions running through his head than there are chapters in the latest novel he is in the middle of borrowing from Akashi, but judging on how Akashi had reacted to his chauffeur’s arrival it would be adverse to voice any of them.

“Where do you live, Tetsuya?” Akashi asks, and after Kuroko recites his address they fall into another uneasy silence. He has worked for nearly two months in the coffee shop at Akashi’s side, and even on the days where they exchanged less than ten words with one another he felt comfortable just being in the presence of the other male. Sitting on these spotless, posh leather seats in a faint light wordlessly listening to classical music is strange.

“The Akashi family owns a conglomerate,” Akashi begins, his voice serving to bring some familiarity to a new situation. “My father has me managing the café as part of my training to take over in the future. Please don’t be intimidated by the limousine. I requested a normal sedan, but father said it was unacceptable for the only son of the Akashi household to be chauffeured home in a sedan.”

“Next you will tell me that you own a horse,” Kuroko jests dully.

“I do,” Akashi replies, and Kuroko nearly chokes on nothing in particular other than the air he is breathing. “He is a white horse named Yukimaru. I ride him often whenever I am not busy.”

“You have been keeping secrets, Akashi-kun,” Kuroko declares boldly once he has recuperated, peering at the redhead from the corner of his eyes.

“You never asked,” Akashi counters, turning to him with a smirk.

Suddenly it makes sense – Akashi is good at everything because Akashi needs to be good at everything. As the only son, he is expected to take over his family’s company, so he is expected to be perfect. Kuroko does not know what it is like to have to live up to such an extreme expectation – his parents just want him to be happy, and he has to admit that right now he is. Learning of the difference in their status is concerning, but as he begins to consider how this will affect his future with Akashi, the thought that he is even worried about a future with the redhead makes him _realize_.

If the Kuroko from two months ago had met the Kuroko from the future and heard that he would fall for a red-haired genius who carries the air of a fairy-tale prince, whose family owns multi-billion dollar companies, but most importantly who is working as his boss at a coffee shop, Kuroko would tell his future self that the vanilla shakes are beginning to mess with his brain and perhaps even cut himself off from the beverage for the remainder of his life. Yet here he is, sitting in the back seat of a limousine holding the entirety of one Akashi Seijuurou’s undivided attention in his hands, and he is not about to wake up from a dream with an unsightly amount of bedhead. He is wide awake, and he has fallen in love.

The limousine stops in front of Kuroko’s house, and after Akashi hands him an umbrella the redhead clarifies that it’s his to keep. “Good night, Tetsuya,” he says as Kuroko climbs out of the side door. “Don’t hesitate to ask if you ever want another ride home.”

“Thank you. Good night, Akashi-kun,” Kuroko replies with a smile.

 

………

 

Kuroko stands next to Akashi at the expansive bookshelf he has come to know as well as the own shelf in his bedroom, watching Akashi scanning the rows of spines with the rim of his mug of French pressed coffee pressed to his lips. “I recall that you enjoy Tanizaki Junichiro,” Akashi contemplates before taking a quiet sip of his beverage. “Are you familiar with his first short story, _Shisei_?”

“I am, but I have not read it,” Kuroko replies, and Akashi deftly pulls the thin book from the shelf with his free hand. “My grandparents are fond of its film adaptations.”

Akashi cradles the book in his open palm as he flips to its first page with his thumb. Lowering his coffee from his lips, he quietly clears his throat – the loudest sound that has happened in the nearly empty café for a while during today’s lunch break. “Maybe it will interest you,” he proposes. “The first passage is as follows…”

The soft timbre of Akashi’s voice whenever he is reading a piece of literature aloud is always a soothing sound for Kuroko, but even though the lyrical sentences and descriptions are interesting he finds his attention diverting elsewhere. Akashi is absorbed into the words on the page – he would usually be reserving at least twenty percent of his attention at any time to see what is happening around him, but Kuroko has noticed that whenever he is around Akashi the redhead is more willing to lower his tightly erected guard.

Kuroko glances over his shoulder for a moment at the rest of the café, noting Aomine using his lunch break to sit down and nap with his face pressed against a table and Kise humming quietly to himself as he munches on a sandwich and plays a game on his phone. He focuses his attention back to Akashi, observing the relaxed grip of his thin fingers looped around the handle of his mug and his weight comfortably grounded on his left foot as he stands a few centimeters to Kuroko’s right, relaxed but alert. His eyes dart back and forth across the lines covering the page, flickering with a hint of amusement at what he is reading, and Kuroko’s own eyes eventually focus on his lips, moving ever so slightly with each word the redhead says.

He has seen those lips smile and he has seen those lips frown, but what pains Kuroko most about those lips are all the memories he has of them barricaded behind a cup of coffee – with no cream or milk. Akashi has impeccable judgment and infallible reasoning behind his every decision, but Kuroko does not understand the reason why Akashi can handle drinking not only coffee itself but coffee in its purest, most offensive form. This is Akashi, though, and Akashi has always been right. Kuroko has not tasted coffee since his first and last time, but perhaps the drink may not be as bad as he continues to believe.

While Akashi is in the middle of a sentence Kuroko grabs onto the side of the book and pulls it upward, drawing Akashi’s hand up with it. “…Is there a problem, Tetsuya?” he asks, but Kuroko doesn’t reply just yet, lifting the book up until its open cover is at eye level. With the paperback cover separating their now secluded faces from the remainder of the open room, Kuroko takes a moment to stare at the cup of coffee in Akashi’s other hand. The tense grip on the handle turns his knuckles white, and when Kuroko turns his head and attention to Akashi’s face he finds a shadow from the book casts down onto the redhead’s frown.

Kuroko curls the index and middle fingers of his free hand around the knot of Akashi’s perfectly ironed tie and tugs the redhead’s body down towards his, closing part of the five centimeter difference in their height. “I do not believe there is a problem,” he replies as he stares straight into the other man’s eyes, feeling the warmth of his own breath brushing against his own lips after bouncing off of Akashi’s. “Do you believe there is a problem, Akashi-kun?”

Akashi stares back at him, the embers in his eyes challenging Kuroko to back away – a challenge that Kuroko will not step down from a loser. “No,” the redhead responds resolutely, and that is when Kuroko lifts himself onto his tiptoes and presses his lips to Akashi’s.

His first kiss with the near perfect being known as Akashi Seijuurou is nothing extraordinary. Kuroko is not swept off his feet, he does not see fireworks going off in his mind’s eye, and he does not feel like he has ascended above the clouds into paradise at the long-awaited feeling of Akashi’s lips against his.

What is special, though, is how quickly his cool and composed boss Akashi Seijuurou comes undone when Kuroko slides the tip of his tongue along the crevice between the other man’s lips. The redhead grunts quietly as he tilts his head into the kiss, and from the corner of his eye Kuroko sees the ripples bloom across the cup of coffee he is still somehow holding onto despite his quivering grip.

Kuroko hears Aomine’s snoring and Kise’s complaints on the opposite side of the room, but he drowns them out in favor of listening carefully to Akashi’s erratic breaths and unsuccessfully restrained groans as Kuroko catches his bottom lip between his teeth. Akashi tastes like bitter, black coffee – the absolute worst kind of coffee, it tastes as bad as he remembered – but Kuroko figures he had better get used to it as he struggles to ignore the overwhelming taste while familiarizing himself with the smooth curves of Akashi’s lips.

“Tetsuya,” Akashi gasps breathlessly as Kuroko releases his grip on his lip, his heart beating quicker at the sound of each syllable of his name uttered so sensually. “I believe there is a problem now – our hands are quite occupied doing things they should not.”

After Kuroko has returned _Shisei_ to the shelf and Akashi has set his half-finished mug of coffee onto a table, the redhead leads the other into the empty kitchen in the back before pinning him against the wall. Kuroko figures it must be revenge for being able to have his way with Akashi before while his hands were full, but as he is sandwiched between the cold wall and a warm body, his fingers fisted in Akashi’s hair as the redhead bites at his earlobe, he thinks he is okay with suffering through this deliverance of retribution.

Akashi trails his lips down Kuroko’s jawline, leaves soft kisses on his neck, and sighs airily on his collarbone when Kuroko traces his fingers along the contours of his back. Kuroko arches up into the inviting warmth as he bites the inside of his lower lip and shakily settles his hands onto Akashi’s hips. “Akashi-kun,” he whispers as he hears his own heartbeat pounding in his eardrums, and Akashi pulls his head from the crook of Kuroko’s neck to glance up at him. “Can I have a ride home tonight?”

The redhead stares at him silently in thought for a few moments before he smiles knowingly. “Yes,” Akashi replies before he leans in for another kiss.

 

………

 

Kuroko Tetsuya stares down at the mug of coffee he is holding in his hands with a deep frown set on his brows and lips despite the impressive rendition of Van Gogh’s famous Starry Night etched in the creamy foam blanketing its surface. “This will be less painful if you let me add in a scoop of vanilla ice cream, Akashi-kun,” he states bluntly.

Akashi clicks his tongue in disapproval as he shakes his head and folds his arms. “It’s plenty sweet enough already. I mixed in the perfect amount of cream and sugar. Ice cream will completely mask the refined flavor of the coffee I’ve so carefully brewed for you, and that is the opposite of what we want if you are trying to get used to the taste.”

His boss is convincing as usual, and Kuroko rubs at his nose with one of his knuckles before he sniffs at his coffee. He is used to the smell now – he can’t say he is bothered by it – but the sharp, bitter flavor is something he is still fighting to grow acclimated to. Kuroko takes a deep breath before he lifts the mug to his lips and takes a tentative taste.

Despite his greatest efforts, Kuroko can’t hide the wince that overtakes his face, and he quickly puts the mug down so there is no threat of him throwing it across the room and possibly knocking Kise unconscious. He still has hopes that he will someday be able to defeat Akashi at a game of chess, but this just seems pointless. “I am sorry, Akashi-kun, but I will never grow to enjoy the taste of coffee,” he declares, sliding the mug across the counter for the other man to take as he thinks about the vanilla milkshake waiting for him as part of today’s lunch.

Akashi picks the mug up and takes a long sip. “I am sure I will convince you to change your mind, Tetsuya,” Akashi Seijuurou, who is always right, replies with a smile. “We will be working here together for quite a while.”


End file.
